Red Christmas

By Srijita Sarkar

Heavenridge is a small town nestled in the hills, removed from the maddening crowds of the bustling cities. A widow has been murdered in cold blood and the killer is careful enough to erase all clues. There are allusions towards blackmail, though some claim that the woman was insane.
There are many questions, but the answers are hard to come by.

A series of murders occur in a city, the brutality and the ingenuity of which stumps the investigators and the public alike. With Christmas round the corner, can one afford to let a killer run loose?

The stories that constitute this book make the reader travel from the genres of suspense and thriller to wit and humour, social and moral to little snippets from slices of the journey we call life.

Join Anita Singh as she tries to fathom what her teacher wants to say in "Who's the Captain?", attend Elizabeth Sanders' dinner party in "French Wine" or try to understand the protagonist's pain in "The Bliss of Oblivion" and "The Next Best Thing".

Prepare yourself for a touch of the supernatural in "Hot Chocolate", "The Package" and "The Diary" or sink into old-fashioned teenage crush in "To What We Once Were" and "Remember Forever".

More such stories await you amidst the pages--you just need to open the book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Srijita Sarkar
• Release date: Jul 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311979810

Srijita Sarkar

22-year-old but still stuck at being seventeen. Prefers pizza to burgers, rains to ceaseless sun-induced madness. A cat person through and through and her voice of reason is a Pikachu plushie. And yeah, she is a natural storyteller and intends to take the world by a literal storm.

Book preview

Preface

Heavenridge is a small town nestled in the hills, removed from the maddening crowds of the bustling cities. A widow has been murdered in cold blood and the killer is careful enough to erase all clues. There are allusions towards blackmail, though some claim that the woman was insane.

There are many questions, but the answers are hard to come by.

A series of murders occur in a city, the brutality and the ingenuity of which stumps the investigators and the public alike. With Christmas round the corner, can one afford to let a killer run loose?

The stories that constitute this book make the reader travel from the genres of suspense and thriller to wit and humour, social and moral to little snippets from slices of the journey we call life.

Join Anita Singh as she tries to fathom what her teacher wants to say in Who's the Captain?, attend Elizabeth Sanders' dinner party in French Wine or try to understand the protagonist's pain in The Bliss of Oblivion and The Next Best Thing.

Prepare yourself for a touch of the supernatural in Hot Chocolate, The Package and The Diary or sink into old-fashioned teenage crush in To What We Once Were and Remember Forever.

More such stories await you amidst the pages--you just need to open the book.

PART ONE

Suspense/Thriller

One

Red Christmas

The corpse looked hideous to the utmost extreme. It seemed as if the face had been stuck inside an insanely hot oven and flash-burned. Nothing that determined the beauty and grace of Rita Garner remained.

Not a pretty way to die, eh? Reyna muttered, inspecting the corpse closely. It was clad in a bright red frilly dress with lace edges with a similar hat perched jauntily on the head. The corpse was found seated on the living room sofa, a glass of red wine stuck to the hand. A card with a red-coloured christmas tree was placed next to it.

Apparently the woman was strangled to death, and then her head was stuck in the hot oven. Preliminary investigations say that she died before her face was burned, though, the inspector looked slightly nauseated, licking his lips before continuing.

They cannot say so with certainty.

Reyna sighed, looking at the inspector’s flushed face. He was a new recruit and though he tried to act tough, she could see that the sight was freaking him out.

You go and inform the boss that I am taking over this case from now, she said, nodding towards the door.

Alright ma’am, he said, sounding relieved. He gave her a salute and quickly exited the room.

Strangling, then burning and then arranging the setting—she had to give the murderer some points for ingenuity. It was nothing like she had seen before.

Dubbed the Red Christmas murders by the newspaper people, it was the seventh victim in six months. And things weren’t looking good for the police department’s reputation.

Ughhh! she groaned, slamming her fists on the table in frustration. She had been involved with the case since the fifth incident and yet, she was no closer to finding the culprit now than she was then.

"Something…there has to be something…some slip…damn him! No one can be so perfect!!!"

**

Reyna Ashwood was twenty-three, tall and slender yet sinewy with a jet-black page-boy bob, dark grey eyes, an aquiline nose coupled with crimson full lips and a dainty chin. Often clad in a grey shirt unbuttoned at the collar, black pants and overcoat, she was the youngest detective in the department. Intolerant of wishy-washy nonsense, her professionalism impressed many of her superiors and generated awe among her colleagues.

Her parents died in a car accident five years ago, when she just entered adulthood. Since then, she had been living with her butler Gerard Radcliffe, her maternal aunt Catherine Rainsworth dropping in often. The Ashwoods were pretty rich, as they owned a couple of very profitable mines apart from being the forerunners in the hospitality industry. But Reyna didn’t inherit her father’s business acumen—she was more like her mother. Mysteries appealed to her, so did the need to service the society. Hence after finishing school, she decided to pursue Criminal Psychology at Oxford before joining the police as a detective. She left the handling of the business to her cousin, Philip Ashwood. And he didn’t disappoint her.

After submitting her initial report, she decided to go back home. Though gruesome sights like these didn’t unnerve her as much as it did the others, she still felt a faint tremor run down her spine.

She was human after all.

The Ashwood Manor was a structure of opulent simplicity. It was grand, yet subtly so. The pale white walls with carved pillars marking the entrance, the giant oak doors opening into the sun-kissed hallway coupled with the heavenly scent of roses wafting from the garden lent an unearthly air to the atmosphere. The house symbolised the Ashwood way of living—simple, subtle yet grand at the same time.

She went upstairs to her room, got changed into more comfortable clothes, washed up and headed downstairs to the dining hall for lunch. She could see her butler arranging the table for two.

She sighed.

Aunt Cathy, you do take the ‘feel-at-home’ thing a bit too seriously, don’t you? she said heavily, looking out of the window.

Of course, young detective!

Catherine Rainsworth was of medium height with pale alabaster skin, ruby tinted amber eyes, dark brown hair set in a fashionable bun, a straight nose, pink lips and a strong chin. She was slim and shapely and was clad in a bright red gown with a crystal brooch on the side. She was almost in her mid-forties, though she still believed she was a young lamb. She had divorced her husband some ten years back and since then, she had been living on her own at her maternal home which was some fifty miles away from the Ashwood Manor.

You still haven’t given up on this red thing of yours, I see, Reyna said, sitting down on her chair.

"Aww come on, Reyna—red is the colour of youth, colour of vitality, life…colour of passion!!!" said Catherine, throwing about her arms dramatically.

Reyna shrugged, allowing a small smile play on her lips. Her aunt was seriously a child at heart.

So, how’s work? she added, seating herself.

Not good, Aunt Cathy. This Red Christmas thing is going out of our hands now…and it’s getting annoying. Not to mention the fact that this is a serious blow to our reputation. It’s Christmas next month and I somehow have this feeling that the murderer is going to plan something big unless we catch this guy.

Catherine twirled her spoon in her soup thoughtfully. I hope you find out the culprit soon…serial killers give me the jeebies…

Reyna sighed as she spooned down her soup dolefully.

It is alright, young detective…perk up. No discussions about work during lunch and dinner—that’s the rule of the Ashwoods’, isn’t it? So tell me… Catherine lowered her voice dramatically. There’s the Annual Winter Ball next week…thrown by the Carmichaels. The Ashwoods are invited…so, who’s your date?

**

Hey Anderson! Get me the list of the victims…complete with details, okay?

Yes ma’am.

It was late evening as Reyna sifted through the papers, all containing transcripts of the interviews the police had with the witnesses. Most of them were bluffs, make her grind her teeth in anger. Didn’t these people know how difficult and important it was to solve cases? Then why on earth did they utter such fairy-tale nonsense as witness accounts?

She gave an involuntary shudder when the remnants of the afternoon conversation floated unbidden into her mind. Trust Aunt Cathy to drop the bombshell. Annual Ball?

She must be crazy.

Here she was, neck deep in work while her aunt was planning some crazy dating regime.

She shook her head in disbelief…who was she kidding? Her aunt had been like this as long as she could remember. From setting up play-dates when she was a toddler to match-making when she was in school, her aunt had always been her unofficial matchmaker.

Though it often irked her, she couldn’t help but smile. She loved her aunt…she was the only family Reyna had.

Here is the list, ma’am.

Thank you.

The file was a pretty thick one—it was evident that the department had researched well into the victims. All of them fell into the age bracket of twenty-one to twenty-seven. All were good-looking, successful young women.

And all were single.

Hmm… she said thoughtfully.

What did the killer have against beautiful, successful, young women?

**

RED CHRISTMAS VICTIM SEVEN

Famous socialite and philanthropist Rita Garner was found dead in her mansion yesterday with a card containing a printed red christmas tree next to the corpse. Preliminary investigations say that this could be the work of the individual who is only known as the Red Christmas murderer. With such a dangerous man on prowl…

The newspaper people have already deduced the killer to be a man, eh? Catherine said, sipping her tea as she read the newspaper.

But I cannot say for certain, though. The manner of killing is gruesome indeed…suggesting it to be a man’s work as the popular psyche goes… Reyna trailed off thoughtfully.

But on the other hand, such articles are creating an environment of fear in the public… added Catherine gently, lowering her cup.

Reyna nodded in agreement.

That is why it is imperative to catch the culprit as soon as possible.

**

Reyna had a brainstorming session with her colleagues in the morning, but couldn’t come up with a conclusion. Sighing to herself, she went back to her cabin only to find her secretary waiting for her.

What is it? she asked.

Dr. Thorston from Our Lady General Hospital wants to meet you. He says it’s urgent.

A doctor?

Is he here?

He is in the waiting area.

Show him into my cabin.

**

Are you sure? Reyna asked again.

Dr. Thorston, a plump balding man of sixty, nodded vigorously.

Yes, Detective Ashwood. I have the files to prove so.

Reyna looked at the man thoughtfully.

I will be coming by your hospital today evening. I need to check your accounts.

Please do that. I will tell my assistant to expect you.

Thank you, Dr. Thorston. You do not know how big a breakthrough it is.

He stood up, smiling.

It is the job of the people to help the police, Detective Ashwood.

As the doctor exited the cabin, Reyna couldn’t help but whoop mentally. A breakthrough at last!

After sometime, she decided to call Philip Ashwood…the ball was a week after the next…just a day before Christmas eve. And if she knew her aunt, she would be dragged into the ball whether she liked it or not. It is better if she was well-prepared.

Hey Phil!

Oh hello Reyna! How are you?

Am fine…how are you?

Alive and kicking as you can see…rather hear at the moment. How’s work?

Reyna sighed. Why did people always ask about work?

Red Christmas is driving me nuts…but that’s for later. Are you free around Christmas? she asked.

She could visualize her cousin’s freckled face crunched up thoughtfully.

Guess so…why?

Would you come to that Carmichael’s Winter thing with me? Otherwise Aunt Cathy will pair me up with someone really random.

Okay okay…got your point. I will tag along with you. Besides, I was considering to drop in sometime next week…

Drop in, then! It is fun to have people around during Christmas…

Alright…see you in a week!

Reyna replaced the receiver with a happy face. Another thing done.

**

"I have never heard anyone going to a ball with her brother!" Catherine exclaimed when Reyna told her in the afternoon.

You should be glad I am playing along with your fantasy in the first place, Reyna mumbled, picking at the broccoli in the salad. She hated broccoli.

Catherine sighed, looking at her niece.

You really don’t get the idea of the ball, do you?

**

After lunch, she visited Rita Garner’s house again. The